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dad. ‘I haven’t got it open yet and I may not even be able to.’
    â€˜Ah, sure you will, lad,’ said Granny P, ‘after that hearty breakfast I gave you, too.’
    â€˜Slave labour and bribery.’
    â€˜Well, don’t you catch on quickly?’ said Granny P. Freddie could hear the chuckle in her voice. And then they were in.
    Dad and Granny P both seemed so excited about the chest, and pleased to see him busy sorting already. And Granny P was really delighted with the progress he had made on the boxes full of old newspapers.Some of the front page headlines were amazing. Freddie had started putting them in order, and the earliest one he had found so far was from 1888 – imagine!
    Freddie felt a bit unsure whether or not he had done the right thing about the chest. But he said nothing – and kept turning the key over and over in his pocket to be sure it was still there. He felt even more confused when Granny P didn’t mention it at all – not even when his dad ended up bruising his hand with the crowbar he was using to try to prise open the chest.
    But then, Freddie didn’t mention the key either.
    Still, Granny P was an adult. Adults stopped games when they went too far, didn’t they?
    Freddie was wondering whether to pretend he’d just found the key before Dad seriously hurt himself, when with a cry of excitement, he got the chest open.
    â€˜Freddie, come quickly!’ shouted Granny P. ‘It’s open!’
    Freddie feigned excitement swiftly followed by disappointment. ‘Oh, I don’t believe it,’ he said. ‘It’s empty.’
    Granny P looked like she might cry. ‘I’m so sorry,Freddie,’ she said, ‘I shouldn’t have let us get so excited. I feel awful now. I was really hoping there would be something amazing in there for us to find together.’
    â€˜Let’s all go and have a cup of tea,’ said Freddie’s dad to the two despondent faces in front of him. ‘I’m sure you will find lots of exciting things up here. You just need a bit of a time out, like all good teams do. Come on.’
    And with that they all went downstairs, shutting the door behind them.
    Granny P turned the key in the lock and gave it to Freddie. ‘I know this doesn’t make up for it, but I think you should be the key-keeper. You’re doing such a brilliant job with the sorting, Freddie. I hope we do find something remarkable somewhere to reward all your hard work.’
    * * *
    They had some of Granny P’s shortbread with their cup of tea, but Freddie found it stuck in his throat a bit.
    Granny P seemed genuinely disappointed – as disappointed as he would have been if the chest had actually been empty.
    But of course it hadn’t been.
    Freddie had only had time to quickly flick through the diaries he had found in there. But he knew they were seriously old, very valuable and potentially full of amazing stories. From the initials on the front, and the various photos stuck inside them, he knew that they were written by one of his great-great grandfathers on the McCormack side of the family – one of Granny P’s grandfathers or great-grandfathers probably. But he’d need Granny P to tell him which one. And he was still deciding whether he would ‘find’ them in front of Granny P or not. It might not matter knowing exactly whose they were, or he might be able to work it out eventually from dates and events – he knew already it was one of his great grandfathers that had done a lot of exploring, so a few well-placed questions might trick Granny P into giving him the answer he needed without her finding out why he was really asking.
    But for now, while he decided, the diaries were safely hidden further back in the fifth gable.
    Hang on, though. Did Granny P already know he had the diaries?
    The more he thought about it all, the moreconfused he was. Surely Granny P would be cross,